Bite the Bitter Fruit
by Cat and Candide
Summary: When tragedy makes Snape her private teacher, Hermione finds herself flung into the secretive man's dark past. Can she save him from the dark deeds he suffered? Can she save herself, as well? (Hermione/Snape)


_Disclaimer: Characters are JKR's, not ours; we just have them on loan.  No money is being made.  This story takes place in the OotP canon, so spoiler-beware! _

**Bite the Bitter Fruit**

**by**** Cat and Candide**

**Chapter I: A Modest Proposal**

Hermione was hiding behind the bulk of her largest cauldron, its remaining warmth causing a thin stream of sweat to trickle from her temple to the sharp curve of her jaw-line.  She daubed at it with the back of her hand, cursing silently.  The Potions classroom was thick with the smell of half-done troublesome tonics, and quiet but for the occasional _drip-drop from the dungeon ceiling._

She couldn't hide behind her cauldron forever.  Soon Professor Snape would look up from his parchments and see that she was the only one left in the classroom.  If that happened he might be so angry that he would simply throw her out before giving her a chance to speak.  No, she thought it better if she took him by surprise.  She wanted him to hear out her proposal in full. 

Approaching him on light feet, she self-consciously tucked her hair behind her left ear and cleared her throat once.  He looked up at once from the parchments he was poring over, his face momentarily surprised, almost pleasant, before it hardened into his usual scowl of contempt. 

"Miss Granger, you are expected in Charms, I believe," he said, curling his arms around the parchments possessively. 

"Excuse me, Sir.  I was hoping to have a word with you," she said brightly, trying her best to smile. 

"Only hoping?"  He raised a dark brow.  "In that case…" he began to riffle his parchments together, his nimble fingers quickly rolling them into a single scroll before he rose to full height and made to leave the room.  "Good day, Miss Granger."  

"Sir!" She bleated, starting after him and dropping two of her books in the process.  

He paused.  "What is it?" he said, his back still to her.

"I was wondering…" she began, her breath catching in her throat and making it hard to breathe.  "…if I could talk to you about the possibility of some additional tutelage?" 

He turned in a single, sharp movement.  "Though it pains me to say so, you are hardly in need of remedial potions lessons," he said, voice dry, as if having struggled its way from the parched husk of his throat.  

"Oh no, it's not that," she stammered, stooping to gather her books.  "I wanted…I wonder if you would object to teaching me Occlumency?  It would only be for a few hours a week, and I think that—"

"Occlumency?" He erupted, the word sounding like a bark.  

"Yes.  I would like to embark upon the Department of Mysteries when I leave Hogwarts, and Professor McGonagall has informed me that Occlumency is a prized skill for those wanting to thrive in the field."  

He stared at her appraisingly, his black eyes a penetrating force in the centre of his otherwise pale face.  A strange shiver passed through her, but she tried to pay it no mind, wishing absently that she'd brought along her cosiest jumper.  

"I'm afraid I haven't the time to aide you in realising such a foolish dream," he said snidely, turning with a swirl of his robes and marching for the exit.  

"But Sir…why?  You've given other lessons in Occlumency, have you not?"

He stopped in his tracks.  "Those were very different circumstances," he said pointedly.  "As you well know." 

A small, triumphant smile announced itself on her features.  "And I also known that you halted those lessons--most unwisely, I might add."

He stiffened, eyes narrowing as if she presented a distinctly tricky challenge.  "What business is it of yours, girl?" he snarled.  

"It isn't," she shrugged her shoulders in a gesture of helplessness.   "But I could make it my business.  If I told Professor McGonagall that I was determined to master Occulmency, she would no doubt go to great lengths to ensure that I received proper tutorial."

Hermione took this gamble in hopes that he would be impressed with her fortitude, her bravery at facing down the abominable Potions Master on his own jealously guarded territory.  She had forgotten, most stupidly, that a snake feels nothing but contempt for the fool-hardy lion. 

His face reddened considerably, eyes speaking volumes even as he pursed his lips into a thin line and said nothing.  She had the brief impression of dark, gathering clouds just before he took a deep breath and erupted.  "Your impudence is intolerable, Miss Granger!  How dare you think to intimidate me in my own dungeon?"  He tucked his scroll of parchment into his robes and moved towards her, anger flaring across his features.  She swallowed and looked quickly for a place to run, but he was already at her, hands clutching at the collar of her blouse and hauling her forward.  "Go. To. Your. Room.," he snapped, so close she supposed she was lucky he hadn't gotten her nose.  Then he reached around with his free hand and delivered a solid smack to her behind, striking so hard that tears burst forth from her eyes, more from humiliation than actual hurt."Good day," he repeated, then straightened up and left the classroom, leaving her reeling in thunderous shock.

It took Hermione more than a few minutes to collect her senses, and it wasn't until her daily homework planner began to chirp _To_ _Skiv is to Sin! To Skiv is to Sin! that she realised she was several minutes late to Charms class.  She looked around dazedly for a brief second before clutching her books to her chest and dashing from the room.  _

***

Snape slammed shut the door to his quarters and pressed up against it as if to bar out a wave of intruders.  He was breathing more heavily than he would have liked and at took several minutes to resume normal inhalation.  The girl had un-nerved him.  Not because of her request—she had always been most intrusive when it came to demanding the attentions of her Professors—but because of her abilities.  Abilities he had never even suspected until now.  

Occlumency had taken him years of arduous training to master, the Legilimency several more years after that.  But when he had looked into the girl's eyes to plunder the glittering thoughts held within her mind, he'd felt a resistance, a distinct pushing away.  The girl did not know it, but she already possessed an innate gift for erecting a formidable wall against those who might want a glimpse of her more surface-level meanderings.  If he had penetrated further, he would have eventually found a niche and wormed his way in, but still, it was impressive; the Potter boy's mind had been open book written in entirely large-print letters.

Retrieving his scrolls from his robes and tucking them safely into a desk drawer, Snape brushed thoughts of the girl aside and moved forth into his quarters, set on enjoying his afternoon tea.

***

Later that night, Hermione had trouble sleeping.  She kept tossing and turning, still blushing hotly when she remembered the mortifying way in which she was punished for her rash decision to coerce Professor Snape into teaching her Occlumency.  She had assumed—most unwisely, it seemed—that her loose association with the Order of the Phoenix might have prompted Snape to develop a modicum of respect for her.  She had thought that her consistent "O"s on Potion exams would have made her appear as a worthy candidate.  She had thought wrong.  

When Harry, Ron, and Neville interrogated her after Charms class, perfectly amazed that she had arrived late, she had kept quiet about the incident.  Instead, she told them that she had taken an extra five minutes to pop by the Hospital wing for a pepper-up potion, sniffling in an exaggerated way as if to prove that she was in fact coming down with a nasty bug.  That had stopped their questions at once; they even backed away a little in alarm.  Not that she blamed them—Christmas wasn't far off and no one in their right mind would want to be sick during the holiday break.  

But _why_ had Snape refused to tutor her in Occlumency?  Was it simply because he hadn't been ordered to by Dumbledore?  Or was it because she was a Gryffindor, a muggle-born?  All her other teachers had been most accommodating this term, understanding that 7th year was especially pivotal in determining a young witch or wizard's path upon leaving Hogwarts.  Pofessor Vector had, for example, stayed after class for several weeks to help Hermione perfect a complicated Arithmancy chart that would practically guarantee her a N.E.W.T. in the subject.  Even more perplexing, Luna Lovegood claimed to have received lessons in Occlumency from Snape the year previous.  Hermione couldn't imagine Luna as more qualified for lessons than she was—but then again, Luna had a decidedly cock-eyed view of the world.  Hermione wasn't sure that her claims could be trusted.

_I'll ask him about Luna first thing in the morning_, she decided.  If Luna had in fact received lessons, then Hermione wanted an equal opportunity to prove herself in the same manner.  She knew she was playing with fire—that Snape was likely to become sublimely overcome with rage if she dared to broach this subject again—but she had to be absolutely certain that his refusal was final.  His ways as a Professor were curious and she wasn't absolutely certain that his behavior hadn't been some sort attempt to test her mettle; either way, she was willing to risk his rage.  And if he spanked her again. . .well, she was a big girl.  The pain would be fleeting.  

Remembering how close his face had been to hers--how that anger had leapt out and pinned her to the spot, charging as she stood helpless in its path—caused her to roll over and bury her face into her cool bed linens.  Then she yawned once and, quite satisfied with her plan, fell into sleep, arms wrapped around her pillow and holding it close.

***                                  *                                  ***

Both of us, Cat and Candide, would like to thank our beta-reader, Lady Letitia.  Please go read her beautiful story _The Scent of Memory.  _

To be continued, of course… 


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